Author S. K. Nicholas

I waited at the back of his throat—

waited to hear him confess my name so I could come out from behind his teeth, and defend my claim

over him. Illusory love o’ mine

kept me cleaving to the bitter of his tongue; for all of her disdain he swallowed, I did

wash in, waiting.

We used to get shit-faced, and fuck each other mad, down by the river in

dew slick grass,

monstrous ‘neath the white-gold moon.

He’d give it to me good ‘til I was

howling, and scratching

bloodstained claws at that discerning watch

slung up high in sleeping cerulean.

I waited at the back of his throat—

waited for him to confess my name.

He didn’t.

Every time he chokes, he’s reminded of me.     

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Kindra M. Austin is an author (information on her book can be found here), artist, and a Sagittarius Valkyrie from the…